Cage's Misconduct (NHL Scorpions #3) (12 page)

It took me longer than I thought to find a parking spot, but I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised. Slow Sam’s is right on the beach and only has street parking. Even though it was late, the nights were getting warmer and tourists were starting to come. It was almost May, after all.

Cage must have been staring at the door because I heard my name called from across the bar as soon as I walked in. I had to meander around the pool tables to reach him and got my fair share of cat calls. The man-to-woman ratio was about two-to-one, making me a prime target.

Cage’s arm snaked around my waist as soon as I got close to him. He pulled me in tight against his side and sent pointed looks at the men playing pool. Apparently that wasn’t enough for him, though, and he slipped his hand down to my ass and gave it a squeeze.

“Must we have this conversation again, Cage?” I removed his hand from my bottom and leaned over to finish his drink. There was only about a shot and a half left in it, and I drank it quickly, putting the glass down with a bang. “Yuck. What was that? I thought you drank whiskey.”

“I do. I mean, I did. And then I drank gin and now I’m onto Jagermeister.” He patted my ass again and then his lap. “Sit. What do you want to drink?”

I chose the bar stool next to him in lieu of his lap. “Just a soda. I’m driving.”

“Damn, Karen. You’re so, so—hey, where’s my drink? Sam! Somebody stole my drink.”

Wow. He was seriously toasted. I had no idea he drank like this. Was it because of the game? I felt bad for him about the loss, but they still had another chance to advance to the next round. He’d be fine.

I tugged on his shirt to get his attention back. “Cage. I drank it, remember?”

“Hey. When did you get here?”

That did it. I wasn’t going to let him have one drop more. He was well beyond drunk. I wondered if I was even going to be able to get him into the truck. And God forbid if he got sick in it. Jody and Lacey were nice enough to loan me Jody’s truck when they didn’t need both of their vehicles. I didn’t want to thank them by letting Cage puke in it.

“I think maybe you’ve had enough to drink. How about I take you home?”

“You’re so beautiful. Your eyes are so …so blue. You know that? Your ass is incredible and your breasts—God, I can’t tell you how many times I’ve jerked—”

“Okay, we’re done here!” I covered his mouth with my hand, so of course he licked it. Ignoring the immediate tingles down yonder at the sensation of Cage’s tongue anywhere on my body, I asked the bartender for the keys and Cage’s bill.

After a full minute of watching him fight to get his money out of his pocket, I took over.

“A little to the left, darlin’.” I dug my fingers into him none too gently and scooped out his money. “Like it on the rough side, do you?”

“Cage.”

“Um hmm?”

“Shut. Up.” The southern twang had to go. It was more than any girl should have to take. Why had I decided that we’d just be friends? I had no idea at the moment. Jesus, he was one gorgeous man.

I paid his bill, and by some miracle was able to lead him outside to the truck. Before I opened his door for him, he pushed me back against it, placing his forehead on mine. And God, did he reek of booze!

“I love you. You know that? You’re the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Okay. That was for sure the liquor talking. Of course he didn’t mean love, love. Oh, I was in trouble here. “Honey, you’re drunk. Let me just get you home and we’ll talk tomorrow, okay?”

“I know I’m drunk, but that doesn’t mean I can’t love you. And fuck, I’m hard. You have no idea what you do to me.” He pushed against me again, pressing the proof of his condition into the V of my thighs. A tiny little moan slipped out, and he took that as a green light.

His lips swooped down to mine, stealing my breath. This was no gentle, tender kiss. It was hot, possessive, and I loved it. I allowed myself to enjoy it until we had to come up for air. It took all my willpower, but I pushed him away and opened his door. He almost went down from the force of my push—and all of the alcohol. “Get in. Let’s go.”

“Thank you, doll.” He winked at me as he got in. What is it with guys who can wink like that? It was so damn sexy. It was like they had all the confidence in the world, and we lapped it up like honey.

***

Although it was only a short ride home, I really thought Cage would fall asleep. He didn’t. He did, however, slide over to the middle and continuously try to run his hand up my thigh. “Cage.”

“Hmm?” My hair, which had been around my neck, was now in his hand. He held it back and leaned in to suck on a patch of skin right below my ear. My traitorous body reacted with a shiver, but I batted him away.

“Stop that! You’re—”

“Incorrigible. I know.”

I didn’t quite catch what he said after that since he wasn’t speaking all too clearly, but I got the gist. Finally, we pulled up to his house and I shut off the engine.

“Here we are.”

“Can you come in? I don’t want to be by myself.”

There was no doubt that he would put major moves on me if I walked into his place with him. “I can’t, Cage.” Why couldn’t I? I could, but I didn’t want to. Well, I mean, I did want to. Oh boy, did I ever, but I valued his friendship. I really didn’t want to ruin that.

“Just for a minute? Please? Just help me get to bed and that’s it. My head’s spinning. I think I drank too much.”

“Yeah? You think?” The porch was really dark, and I knew he was unsteady on his feet. Dammit, I was going to regret this. “Okay. I’m only helping you in, though. And no funny stuff.”

“You’re an angel.” He tried to open the door to the truck, but couldn’t find the handle. His hands were moving all over the door’s window. “Where the fuck’s the door opener thing?”

He was actually starting to entertain me. Drunk people can be quite comical. “Just sit tight. I’ll come around and open it for you, okay?”

“Yeah, but who the fuck buys a truck without a door thing?”

I laughed at him, but didn’t bother answering. He just about fell out of the cab when I opened the door from the outside. From the look of his half-closed eyes, I didn’t have long to get him in the house before he crashed.

We made it up the stairs without incident, but then, “Aww, damn.”

Crap. I knew it. He was going to hurl. “Don’t puke on me!” I pushed him away, but made sure he could hold onto the railing on the deck for balance. I jammed the key in his front door, thanking God Sam had given them to me so I didn’t have to go on another fishing expedition in his pocket.

“I’m not going to get sick, Karen. I’m not that drunk. I don’t think. I was just hoping for another round of pocket ball.”

“Nice. Get inside, will you?”

“What? I like your hand on my junk.”

I pushed him through the door and kicked it shut with my foot. As soon as the door closed, I found myself pushed up against it. I’d give him one point for determination. Of course his body felt heavenly pressed so hard against mine.

“How do you make me want you so bad? I can’t get you out of my head.” His kiss was fierce. Almost punishing, but I allowed it. I took way too much pleasure in it. And just like that, I gave up fighting, but I wasn’t happy about it. The thought no sooner left my mind when Cage ripped off my sweatshirt and cupped my breasts in his hands. “I love your tits.”

In no time at all, his shirt was on the floor next to mine. He still had me backed up against the door, trying his best to lock it behind me while keeping his lips on me. “Fuck.”

“I’ve got it.” The lock snapped closed, and he spun around to lead me to his bedroom. The spin must have been too much for him. He grabbed at the breakfast bar, and if faces really could go green, his did. It was a ghastly hue.

“Fuck.” And then he was gone. I heard him retching into the toilet while I stood there shaking with lust. I shouldn’t have been surprised, and maybe I should have even been thankful that the universe intervened on my behalf. If we had sex, it could ruin our friendship. And I didn’t want to be one of Cage’s puck bunnies out for a one-nighter, but let me tell you, it sucked being riddled with a conscience.

My purse was on the floor by the door where it had fallen in the heat of the moment. I thought Cage might appreciate a mint after his round with the porcelain god. As I walked over to pick it up, I noticed the moon’s reflection highlighting the pictures of Cage’s family on the mantle. He must be so lonely here. If he wasn’t at practice or a game, he didn’t seem to have anyone to hang out with.

Hearing a thump after the toilet flushed sent me running toward Cage. “Are you okay?”

“You’re still here.”

His other boot hit the wall with the same thump as he fell backward onto the bed, and that was all she wrote. Half on and half off the bed, I tried to drag him under the covers.

“Take my jeans off.” His hands were trying to work the button, but weren’t doing anything more than slipping off. “Fuck. I want them off.”

“Okay. Relax.” Crap. I took his jeans off as methodically as possible. Of course his legs were fantastic. So muscled and strong. He wasn’t hulking in build, but lean and remarkably well-defined. Yum.

He tucked his thumbs in the edge of his boxer briefs on both sides, and off they flew as he tossed them to the floor.

Hello! Even at half-mast he was quite impressive. And, holy cow, what was that? Cage had a tattoo down there. A four leaf clover with “Luck of the Irish” written in script on a ribbon bisecting it. My fingers brushed it involuntarily.

“Three times.”

I pulled my hand away like I was caught doing something naughty—which, yeah, I kind of was. “Huh?”

His hand covered mine and clumsily moved it back to his tattoo. “Have to touch it three times.”

My fingers trailed over the clover two more times, and with renewed effort I pulled my eyes away and swept him into the bed, pulling the sheet over him, regrettably covering up all that exquisite skin. It was possible I caressed him a bit more in the process, but hell, he wasn’t going to remember any of it anyway.

“Don’t go.” I barely heard the mumbled words. “Please stay with me. I don’t want to be alone. I’m always alone.”

“Aw, Cage.” Another mistake. I knew it, but I stayed anyway. He sounded so desperate to not be left by himself. “Okay. I’ll be on the couch.”

His arm snaked out and was much stronger than I would have thought in his current state. Ever since Freddy, fast movements like that made me nervous. And I wasn’t keen on being grabbed, but several calming breaths later, I reminded myself that he wasn’t Freddy. He was nothing like Freddy. “Let go, Cage. Please.”

He rolled over and patted the bed. “Sleep here. I promise I’m just going to go to sleep.”

“You’re naked.”

His lips quirked the slightest bit, but his eyes never opened. “You’re not. Not totally. It’s fine. I have to go to sleep now.”

And what did I do? I grabbed one of his t-shirts from a pile sitting on the dresser and climbed into bed with him. He was already snoring by the time I pulled the covers over us. About a half hour later, I couldn’t take it and took my jeans off. I couldn’t stand them twisting around my legs each time I moved. Like a good little girl, I left my panties and shirt on, though I preferred to sleep in the buff. The fact that he was naked wasn’t keeping me up at all, though. Nope, not at all.

***

Hours later, I woke to hot, wet lips on my breast, with Cage’s hair whispering against my skin. The t-shirt I had borrowed was bunched up under my chin, and my bra was pulled down to rest under my breasts. Regaining my senses in tiny increments, I felt his significant erection against my thigh. Just one more minute and I’d push him off.

“I knew you’d be like this. So soft.”

By the tone of his voice, I could tell that he either wasn’t completely awake or he was still drunk. Lying on my back, I went utterly still and fought with myself to push him off. But it felt so good. He felt good. It felt good simply not being afraid of his touch. Not at that moment I wasn’t, anyway.

His lips continued to move over my body, drawing out soft gasps from me. Any minute now I was going to push him away. My hand wandered all on its own down his naked back and up again. That was all the invitation he needed.

Cage rolled himself completely over me and nestled in between my legs. “Put your legs around me.”

I could feel his teeth on my neck. His love bites went all the way to my toes, making the most impact right in the core of my being. It had definitely been too long. He reached down and pulled my panties aside and then took himself in hand to guide him inside me. As soon as I felt the tip enter me, I bolted upright with an anguished groan.

“Wait!” Holy shit, I couldn’t do it. I thought I could. I mean, physically I wanted to—holy hell did I want to—but did he even really know it was me beneath him and not some random puck bunny in his bed? He’d been drinking, had gotten sick, no condom—it just didn’t feel right.

My body wanted to take the pleasure he offered, but my mind forbade it. I think what it came down to was that I wasn’t ready for the aftermath. What about what comes after the sex? I wasn’t a casual sex woman. Cage wasn’t a long-term relationship guy. I’d lose him as my friend, and I didn’t want to.

Since I had sat up so quickly, Cage’s head was now on my thigh. “This works too.” His lips descended right smack dab in the middle of my thighs.

“Oh my God.” I pushed his head away. It took every ounce of will power I had. “Cage. You have to stop. This isn’t the time. I don’t want to do this.” Liar, liar. I am such a liar.

Cage bounded unsteadily off the bed. “Why? You were hot enough for it before. Am I not good enough for you?”

He was definitely still drunk. His words were significantly garbled. “Cage. Get back in bed and go to sleep. Okay? We’ll talk tomorrow.” I got up and helped him back under the covers.

“God, you taste good. I’m going to have you someday, you know.” Those last words were barely more than a whisper as he slid back into a drunken sleep.

Not thinking twice about it, I got dressed and got the hell out of there before I lost all sanity and climbed back into bed with him.